


i'm calling all the shots tonight, i'm like a loaded gun

by rlwrites



Series: with your hand full of wildflowers on the road to hell [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Smut, and clarke is worried about his health, bellamy is a big stress ball, just...yeah, mutual secret pining, they're both teachers, which is the best kind amirite?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rlwrites/pseuds/rlwrites
Summary: Clarke has been carefully watching her best friend slowly self-destruct for a few weeks when she plops down into the chair next to him and calmly folds her hands."Bellamy, you need a good fuck."





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Bellarke Week 2016  
> Day #4: Smut
> 
> Title from Back in the Saddle by Aerosmith

Clarke has been carefully watching her best friend slowly self-destruct for a few weeks when she plops down into the chair next to him and calmly folds her hands.  
  
"Bellamy, you need a good fuck."  
  
Bellamy immediately chokes on the coffee he'd just taken a sip from, wiping it off his chin with the back of his hand and glancing around with wild eyes.  
  
"Jesus, Clarke, you can't just—" He scrambles for napkins and hunches down, as if that's gonna help him disappear. He's not exactly the tallest, sure, but c'mon...those shoulders are still way too impressive to hide easily. "We're in a _school_ , for Christ's sake."  
  
Clarke merely shrugs. Okay, maybe the teacher's lounge wasn't the best place to start this conversation--and she probably should have waited until he'd swallowed his coffee--but the only people in here are Murphy, the video production teacher who looks perpetually bored and also happens to be sleeping, and Lincoln, the other art teacher who has his headphones on and is very clearly on the other side of the room. Besides, Bellamy has been so busy lately that she's hardly seen him outside of school and she needed to talk about it before he workaholics himself to death.  
  
"It's true, though. Look at you, Bell, you're a corpse."  
  
It's not really his fault and Clarke knows this. It's AP test season in a few weeks and Bellamy always gets stressed around this time of year. But since he added on two AP Gov classes in addition to his usual two AP US History classes, he's been working himself into his own grave to make sure his students are prepared. And Clarke has seen first hand how it's taken its toll.  
  
He's the palest she's ever seen him, and the last time the bags under his eyes were this dark he was working on his dissertation in college. He's hunched over and barely eats, surviving mostly on coffee and the protein bars Clarke slips into his desk when he isn't looking. He hasn't been to Friday night drinks with the other teachers nearly as much as he did the year before and when he _does_ show up, he's distracted the whole time and usually ducks out early. Frankly, Clarke is worried.  
  
"I don't see what that has to do with me getting--" He shakes his head, rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm. " _Laid_ ," he whispers.  
  
It makes Clarke smile. "Since when are you such a prude, Blake?"  
  
Bellamy glares. "When I realized I'd like to keep my _job_ , that's when."  
  
"Nerd." Clarke passes him the rest of her lunch, but doesn't tell him she purposefully brought too much because she knew he wouldn't have any. "Eat. You need something solid and green. And then you need to fu—"  
  
"Thanks, I got it the first time." He frowns down at the chicken, rice, and broccoli, but picks up the fork and begins eating anyway. Much to Clarke's delight.  
  
"Not that I don't appreciate your sudden concern with my coitus habits, Clarke, but I still don't understand why..."  
  
"You're so tense, Bellamy. Like, all the time. You need to _relax_." She pats him on the thigh and his knee jerks up into the table.  
  
"See what I mean?" she says with a smile.  
  
Bellamy clears his throat. "This is weird."  
  
"Probably true. Doesn't change the problem, though. And I'm gonna help you solve it."  
  
Bellamy sighs. "This is definitely weird."  
  
-  
  
Finding Bellamy people to sleep with isn't exactly hard as much as it is complicated.  
  
He's an attractive guy. Clarke is willing to admit that she has admired his arms on occasion.  
  
(Okay, maybe on several occasions. But she can't help it! He looks really great when he rolls his dress shirts up to his elbows at the end of the day. It's been awhile for her too, she's only human!)  
  
He's charming enough, in a nerdy-cute sort of way. Clarke hates his ancient civilization jokes because she usually doesn't get them, but he gets so excited when he tells them that it's hard to not be endeared.  
  
The problem is that he's just so damn stubborn— and surprisingly picky, as Clarke discovers--when it comes to who he has sex with.  
  
"What about Roma?"  
  
"The Italian teacher?" Bellamy doesn't look up from the papers he's grading at her kitchen table. She forced him to come over on a Saturday night to discuss a battle plan and he only agreed because she offered unlimited beer.  
  
"That's the one. She's pretty. And she can roll her 'r's. I'm sure that will come in handy."  
  
Bellamy rolls his eyes, marks a B on the top of the paper he's grading and takes a swig from his beer.  
  
"I don't know. She's not really my type."  
  
Clarke raises her eyebrow. "What are you talking about, she's exactly your type! Your last two girlfriends look just like her!"  
  
Bellamy fidgets, his shoulders shifting awkwardly, but doesn't say anything.  
  
"What about the school nurse. Maya, I think. She has all those beds right there in her office."  
  
Bellamy's laugh is dry and insincere. "Yeah, I don't think so."  
  
"What? She's nice!"  
  
Bellamy flips a page, frowning down at an essay that seems to have no paragraph breaks. "I dunno, Clarke. She's just not what I'm looking for."  
  
His tone is flat and sets Clarke's teeth grinding, wondering why she's even bothering if he's gonna be so fucking _apathetic_ about it.  
  
"Well then what the fuck are you looking for, Bellamy?" she bites, fully expecting him to shrug it off again.  
  
" _You_!"  
  
His outburst catches her by complete surprise.  
  
(Based on the shell-shocked look on his face, Bellamy is equally stunned.)  
  
"Well," she starts, but Bellamy cuts her off.  
  
"Fuck, just. Forget I said it. I just slipped out and I didn't mean it. I just." He shoves a hand through his hair, which makes it stand up in interesting ways, but forces Clarke to bite down on the fond smile that is threatening to show.  
  
With a decisive nod, she stands and walks around the table, pushes him back in his chair and lifts a leg over him to settle in his lap. His eyes are huge and wide and she's never been happier to see him at a loss for words.  
  
Taking advantage of his silence, Clarke kisses him. He's stiff and frozen at first, but when she kisses him again, she feels him slowly melt until he tentatively begins to kiss her back.  
  
It is everything and nothing like she imagined it would be. He's a great kisser, Clarke always figured he was. But it's way more than that. Kissing Bellamy is like sensory overload. It's all so so much and yet every second she does it she wants ten more. He tastes like peppermint gum and the beer he was drinking and all she can hear and feel and smell is her speeding heartbeat and his soft, warm lips and she wants to drown in it.  
  
When she smiles into his mouth, his hands come up to her waist and pull her closer. When she teases his lip with her tongue, he groans and opens up for her. The noise of protest he makes when she pulls back is desperate and sends a lick of heat to her pelvis and she wishes she could bottle it up because it's the best damn thing she's ever heard.  
  
His pupils are huge and his mouth is swollen and, yeah, this is all around the best damn thing. Ever.  
  
"You sure you didn't mean it?" Clarke asks, not even ashamed at how wrecked her voice is.  
  
"Yeah, no. _Totally_ fucking meant it," he practically growls before pulling her into a hot, dirty kiss. His hands slide down her back and over her ass and before she can truly realise what's happening, he stands up with her in his arms.  
  
She yips into his mouth--which is slightly embarrassing--and as he begins to cross the room, Clarke clutches tighter to his shoulders and squeezes her legs around his waist.  
  
Somehow they end up down the hall, furiously making out against the door to her bedroom until her skin feels like it's on fire. When Bellamy tears away from her mouth to mouth down her throat, she's incapable of restraining her moan.  
  
"Bed," she breathes, "Bellamy, bed."  
  
He hums against her collarbone and hoists her up so he has a free hand to open the door. Clarke is giggling when he he drops her on her bed and she bounces but soon enough he's got her dress rucked up by her hips and he's pressing kisses to the inside of her thigh. All of the oxygen is suddenly sucked out of her chest when he mouths over her knickers.  
  
"Please, _Bell._.." she whines and when he slides the pink lace down her legs and finally gets his tongue on her, her mind goes blank and her fingertips get all tingly. Months of idle fantasies and sexual frustration comes to a head when his tongue and his fingers leave her trembling and sated above him.  
  
Clothes are shed--she couldn't tell you how--and skin slides against glorious skin. Clarke rolls them over so she can admire him. Bellamy is beautiful in the most pure sense of the word. The pale blue of her comforter is a stark contrast to the inky curls that fall back from his forehead. His freckles stand out against his skin and Clarke wants to kiss each and every one of them, but she limits herself to the one by the corner of his mouth--her favourite--before trailing her hand down his stomach.  
  
Bellamy' eyes are huge and dark dark _dark_. She doesn't dare look away from them when she wraps her hand around his cock. His hiss sends a shiver up her spine and she doesn't know how much longer she can wait, she needs...more. She needs _him._  
  
Pulling away from him is awful, but if she doesn't get him inside her soon she's gonna lose it so she slides off, ignoring his protest. She nearly falls off the bed in her haste to get a condom out of her bedside cabinet, which only makes him laugh. Honestly, the sight of his unbridled happiness makes something stir deep in her chest--something big with a capital 'b'--and it's a little overwhelming so she smacks his chest as she rips the condom wrapper with her teeth.  
  
"Asshole," she grumbles after she spits the foil out, revelling in the way his laughter cuts off as soon as she rolls the condom on him.  
  
"'S this okay?" Clarke peers up at him through her hair, hoping that he hasn't noticed how her hands have started to shake.  
  
"Bit late for that now, isn't it?" His eyebrow quirks.  
  
"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't even ask, I should have—"  
  
His hands cup her cheeks when she starts to pull away, tugging her back in for a soft, sweet kiss.  
  
"You're asking now. It's fine, I promise." He kisses her once more, a little harder this time, and lets his hands slide down her sides to her hips. His fingertips leave goosebumps along her flesh and she has to suck in a breath before she passes out.  
  
"Besides, I'm never gonna object to you taking charge."  
  
There is a pregnant pause where everything just hangs there in the air between them like time has frozen. But then his hips shift underneath her and his cock brushes against her and suddenly time has been jumpstarted. With a noise that is almost feline, she slides down onto him and from there everything moves in hyper speed.  
  
It doesn't take long for her to feel the heat building in her hips again. When Bellamy's fingers find her clit, it's his hoarse, whispered encouragements that send her over the edge for the second--or was it the third?--time. He's not far behind her, his hips snapping up into her erratically until he's suddenly boneless beneath her, panting her name into her neck with eyes screwed shut.  
  
They lay there, sweaty and breathless, for a few more minutes. Eventually Clarke rolls off of him and Bellamy gets up to tie off the condom and drop it into the bin. He comes back with a towel to clean her off. Fondness swelling in her chest. She cannot help but press kiss after kiss to his chest when he lays down again.  
  
"I've been thinking," she says, resting her chin on his sternum.  
  
"Have you? That's never good."  
  
Clarke pinches his hip and smiles when he yelps. " _Anyway_ ," she says, rolling her eyes. "I think I have a solution to your problem."  
  
"My problem?"  
  
"Yeah, I know this girl who's perfect for you."  
  
Bellamy stiffens and his face falls. "Oh..."  
  
Clarke pushes on. "Yeah, she'll laugh at all your dumb history jokes, and won't even get mad when you get neurotically preoccupied with your job. Plus, I have it on good authority that she thinks you're really, _really_ hot."  
  
"Clarke, I—"  
  
Clarke presses a finger to his lips and finally smiles.  
  
"The thing is, she just had the most amazing sex of her life and she's kinda scared because it was with her best friend that she's been secretly in love with for a while now. And I know you were just looking for a...y'know, like a one-and-done sorta sexual release or whatever, but this girl is more of a relationship kinda person so..."  
  
Bellamy doesn't say anything, just continues to stare at the ceiling with his eyebrows furrowed. Clarke's smile begins to slip and she's about to flee into the bathroom when Bellamy speaks.  
  
"Who says I was looking for a one-and-done?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Bellamy pushes up onto his elbows. "You were the one that decided I needed to get laid. I was perfectly content with pining for my best friend for another few years."  
  
Clarke's mouth drops open and Bellamy spreads into a full grin.  
  
"Ugh!" Clarke grabs a pillow and swings it at his head. "You're the worst!"  
  
His laughter is light and happy when he tackles her back against the mattress. She glares at him, although it's not nearly as severe as it usually is and soon enough she can no longer fight her smile.  
  
"How long have you been secretly in love with me?" Bellamy's grin is smug and she wants to kiss it right off his face.  
  
"How long have you been pining for me?" She counters, pulling his face down to hers.  
  
"Most amazing sex of your life, huh?"  
  
She hits him with the pillow again.  


**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say...I just fucking love Bellarke, okay?
> 
> tumblr: [@braverybros](http://braverybros.tumblr.com/)
> 
> kbyeee


End file.
